But Harry was quicker. Sweeping 'Thello into her arms, she stepped back.
"Whoever owned him didn't deserve to!" she cried. "The poor little thing had been starved and beaten nearly to death when we found him, and I'm not going to let him go."
The way in which Harry spoke the words, with her head thrown back and her brown eyes shining, carried a challenge; the sheep herder's fist tightened on his stick and his face darkened. Then, without a word, he shrugged his shoulders and moved off.
"Remember," called Rob, "you're to feed on the slopes. I want the meadows for my own stock, and if you aren't careful, I'll have you moved outside the two-mile limit."
The fellow stopped, looked back at them, and then answered, "I reckon you can't do just that. I've filed on the homestead just east of this here one. My name's Boykin, if you want to look it up." Turning, he went on.
There was a minute of silence. Then Rob said slowly, "The homestead east; the land I meant you to take."
Harry could not answer. A queer, surprising shame and regret held her silent.
She and Rob walked down to the tent without speaking a word. Anything that Rob might have said would have sounded like a reproach, and of what use, he thought, would that have been now? Harry longed to have him speak, nevertheless, to have him say something that would show how he did feel. She was much relieved when at last he broke the silence.
"Who's that coming?" he said abruptly. "I believe it's Brannan with the cow and those heifers."
A cloud of dust was puffing along the road toward the ranch, and through it they saw a man on horseback, with the half-dozen head of cattle which Rob had bought. When they came nearer Harry recognized the little man as the same who had spoken to Rob in the hotel at Shoshone.